


I Could Be Jew-ish For You

by Macremae



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Assumed Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Hanukkah, Humor, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, Jewish Holidays, LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), M/M, Miscommunication, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Movie: Pacific Rim (2013), Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/pseuds/Macremae
Summary: When Hermann agrees to spend Chanukah with his family in an attempt to wheedle some desperately-needed funding out of his father, Newt insists that he shouldn’t face Lars alone and tags along as his “emotional support family rage distraction”. What they fail to realize are two things: 1. When Hermann brings Newt with him to the festivities, assumptions will be made, and 2. Newt may be half-Jewish, but he sure wasn’t raised as one.
Relationships: Hermann Gottlieb & Karla Gottlieb, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 15
Kudos: 133





	I Could Be Jew-ish For You

**Author's Note:**

> JOM COM JOM COM HAPPY CHANUKAH BABEYYYYY. endless love and smooches to charleston for being my beta, shoutout to maria for being on the same brainlength of mistaken relationship chanukah fics, and if you'd like to talk more about the international implications of menorahsaurus rex, find me on tumblr @bae-science and twitter @shakesexual

It was 2022, and the world was ending, and Hermann was being a very bad Jew.

The reasoning behind this behavior currently rested in his hands (although “rested” was a bit of an inaccurate descriptor; the reasoning was more clenched, really) in the form of a neatly written, crisply folded letter with the stationary header “From the Desk of Dr. Lars Gottlieb” printed in simple black font at the top. It read:

_Dear Hermann. As always, your presence is requested at the family home this Chanukah for our annual celebration of the Festival of Lights. I understand you may continue to be somewhat upset over our differences regarding funding directions for the Kaiju War, but I hope you will put aside any petty grudges you may have and commemorate the season with your family. We expect your arrival by the first night. Regards, Lars Gottlieb._

Hermann was thoughtfully considering the letter, of course, as he did every year. He thought he might use it as a coaster this time, although last year’s decision to engage in a bit of whimsy and fold it into a paper airplane had certainly been enjoyable. Then there was the option he had taken the first year of the PPDC’s increasingly drastic budget cuts: setting the damned thing on fire.

“Looks like it’s that time of the year again,” said Newt, unceremoniously leaning over Hermann’s shoulder to read the contents. “For a dickhead, your Dad sure is persistent about mandatory family fun, huh?”

“I would never imagine using the word ‘fun’ to describe Chanukah with my family,” Hermann replied, holding the letter up to the light to see if any spilt tea would leak through too quickly. “It’s not even the most important holiday on the Jewish calendar.”

“Still, you gotta give the guy credit,” Newt said, leaning up on his tiptoes to keep reading. “Two years of the brush-off from you and he still keeps this up? Somebody doesn’t know when to take a hint.”

“Or he’s just obstinate,” Hermann drolled. He began to fold the letter into a square for better absorption. “I honestly don’t know what he thinks he’s going to accomplish, especially by wording them that way. ‘Petty grudges’ my foot. As if some steel twigs and concrete are going to stop one Kaiju, let alone hundreds.”

Newt shrugged and turned away. “You’ve got a point there. Besides, it’s not like the dude’s capable of any kind of holiday spirit.”

He opened his mouth to agree, then stopped. _Holiday spirit_...

Suddenly, Hermann found himself in possession of a burgeoning idea. One that, if successful, might provide him with the one thing he could _really_ use. It was tasteless, yes. A bit sneaky. But if it worked…

“Newton,” he said aloud, “don’t you dare record this, but you might just be a genius.”

Newt’s eyebrows shot up like rocket ships. “Uh. Could I get that in writing? Also, how?”

Hermann strode forward, a smile beginning to spread across his face. “You said it yourself: holiday spirit! A time of giving and sharing and being there for one’s family, yes?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes?”

“So perhaps, and there’s a small chance but one might as well take it, if I were to attend my family’s Chanukah celebration this year and get into the good graces of my father, he could be persuaded to direct some of the Wall’s funding to us. Nothing much, obviously, but any good will do at this point.” 

Newt began to tap his foot on the lab floor, thinking. “You’d have to do some major schmoozing, dude. Like, perfect academic German farmboy role and all that.” He frowned. “Do you really wanna spend your holiday kissing up to your dad and being miserable?”

Hermann grimaced slightly at the thought. “I’ll admit it’s not ideal, but I at least know what to expect from these things.”

“Passive aggressive Bavarian niceties?”

He considered shooting Newt a glare, but he wasn’t wrong. “At least it’s familiar. I have a roadmap.”

The frown deepened. “That’s depressing as hell. Full offence.”

Hermann changed his mind about the glare.

Then, Newt snapped his fingers. “Wait. Dude. I have _the best_ idea.”

“Oh no,” said Hermann.

“I should come with you! For Chanukah! I can be your moral support!”

Hermann made a face that usually accompanied the words, “Newton, no.” “You should, could, and will do no such thing.”

“Aw, c’mon!” Newt exclaimed. “Do you really wanna go up against your Dad by yourself? We’ve tag-teamed him before.”

Hermann’s mind flashed back to Lars’ last visit to the PDDC, during which Newt had unveiled his latest vaguely illegal scientific diversion: Kaiju Blue elephant toothpaste. Lars had witnessed the demonstration. There were med bay visits involved.

Newt appeared to see the trepidation on Hermann’s face and batted his eyelashes. “Hey, my mom may have been Jewish, but my Dad and Uncle weren’t. Do you really wanna deprive me of a real, authentic Chanukah experience?”

Hermann blinked mercilessly.

“Also lemme remind you that it’s at least eight days, with your family, in the middle of nowhere, and I’m the only one of us who can reliably drive.”

Hermann’s face dropped into one of displeased realization. “Fine. You can come.”

Newt punched the air in vindication. “Hell yeah, baby! Trust me, Herms, you’re not gonna regret this.”

“Oh,” said Hermann, dread curdling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of anyone in his family getting Newt alone, “I don’t believe that at _all_.”

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

On the plane to, as Newt put it, “Garment-Parkinson’s or whatever”, Hermann ran over some ground rules.

“Under no circumstances are you to do any scientific experiments while we are there,” he said firmly. “This includes any doctrine under the sciences, including chemistry, biology, zoology, psychology, and while I do not personally believe in it, the dark arts.”

“So no summoning the Krampus then,” Newt said with a wink. Hermann ignored him and continued.

“You are not to purposefully try and speak with any of my family members alone, nor be in their general vicinity without a third party. You _will not_ speak to my father without me there. You will not bring any woodland creatures, no matter how ‘cute’ they are, into the house. There will be absolutely no discussion of Kaiju, Kaiju cults, or anything even remotely related to the monsters coming out of the Pacific Ocean.”

Newt put a hand lightly on Hermann’s arm. “Hermann, it’s cool, I get it. I’m here to be your moral support and your backup; anything you think will butter your dad up? Cool with me. Just let me know how and when I can help, okay?”

Hermann glanced down, a slight blush spreading across his face. “Ah―yes. Thank you.” He, somewhat awkwardly, patted Newt’s hand. “I truly do appreciate your help, Newton. If I do have to spend Chanukah with my family, well. I can certainly think of worse people to have as my plus-one.”

Newt rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Gee thanks. Who’s your second choice―Onibaba?” At Hermann’s expression, he laughed. “Relax. Look, if we win this whole war thing and end up coming back someday, I’ll be a living nightmare for your dad. Promise.”

Hermann gave him a small smile at the thought. “Well. I suppose we don’t have to be absolutely perfect houseguests. If you want to want to release a squirrel or two into the air ducts, I know I can get at least Karla to turn a blind eye.” He glanced at the tattoos peeking out of Newt’s shirtsleeves. “I would recommend you covering your arms as much as you can while you’re there. Tattoos aren’t very taboo these days, but even without the subject matter, Mother and Father certainly wouldn’t approve.”

“Everyone’s a goddamn critic,” Newt grumbled, but pulled the cuffs of his sweater down. It looked rather nice on him, all things considered. Hermann rarely saw Newt in anything but either his business-grubby work clothes or the occasional glimpse of a pajama shirt, and he hadn’t known Newt owned clothes so… nice. Ones that brought out his eyes, even.

He quickly turned to look out the window, palm covering his mouth as his elbow rested on the sill. Focus. Flattery, funding, and a victory bottle of sake back at the lab when this was all over. All Hermann had to do was gently ease Newt into the model of a German gentleman.

And, of course, give him a crash course on the entire Festival of Lights within the span of a plane ride.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

“ _Garmisch-Partenkirchen?_ ” Newt tried for the third time, pronouncing the words with comical slowness. “ _Kleiner Skiort knapp eine Stunde von hier? Sie müssen zumindest einige Leute bitten, dorthin zu gehen, oder?_ ”

Hermann snickered under his breath. “Newton,” he said amusedly, “I don’t think this poor man understands your accent.”

Newt looked up in indignation. “My what? I don’t have an accent; I’m speaking perfect goddamn German!”

“Berliner German,” he said with a touch of smugness. “ _We’re_ in Bavaria.” He turned to the cab driver. “ _Bitte bringen Sie uns nach Garmisch-Partenkirchen. Ich wohne in der Grasbergstraße und erzähle Ihnen das Haus._ ” 

Newt threw up his hands. “That’s literally exactly what I said!”

“Accent,” Hermann repeated, and leaned back in his seat as the driver nodded and started the engine. Newt slumped beside him and folded his arms.

“I can translate perfectly fine when the Hansens spout off whatever the fuck slang is in Australia, but noooo, here in Germany it’s all about the accents.”

Hermann gave him a condescending pat on the hand. “Lucky for you everyone in my family speaks proper English.”

“Great,” Newt grumbled, “can’t wait to hear about ‘bashing about’ with the ‘lads’.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Oh heavens no. The only bashing we do is flattening the latkes. Don’t be absurd.”

The drive to Hermann’s family home was as familiar as always; white snow covered everything, and drifts floated up and down across the countryside like gentle waves. They passed a few ski resorts on their way, and Hermann shuddered at the memory of achingly boring trips where his siblings took to the slopes while he was forced to stay inside and study. He certainly hoped there wouldn’t be any wilderness outings this time around.

“Hey,” Newt said cheerfully, nose almost pressed to the window, “Hermann, you never told me you grew up in basically a fairy tale village! This place looks like it could be in a Hallmark movie!”

“They haven’t made any Hallmark movies about Chanukah, Newton,” Hermann groused, but his heart did a funny little flip at the childlike excitement in Newt’s eyes. Somehow, the softly-capped pines and gently falling snow seemed a little dreamier now.

Hermann eventually directed the cab driver up the winding hills of the village to the Gottlieb family farm, a sprawling piece of land with a thick patch of woods spreading past the end of the property, and a neat little dirt road leading up to the large, red brick house. There was a smaller carriage house to the left of it in grey washed wood, and Newt’s face fell as he realized it did not, in fact, contain an actual carriage. The house itself was like something you might find in a murder mystery, with peaked roofs and a large front door with big brass knockers. After Newt pulled both of their suitcases from the trunk and hauled them up the snow-dusted steps, Hermann grabbed one of them and knocked.

The door to the right opened a few seconds later, and Lars Gottlieb, looking like an only slightly healthier post-lava Darth Vader, stared at both Hermann and Newt with cool surprise.

“Hermann,” he finally said simply. “You deigned to come.”

Hermann replied with a thin smile. “I did.” He gestured to Newt, who was standing awkwardly next to him. “And you’ve met Dr. Geiszler, my partner.”

Lars looked at Newt as if he were a cheese curd found on the floor of a middle-class priced restaurant. “We’ve met,” he said in an icy voice. Newt gave a little wave.

“Howdy.”

At this, Lars’ expression shifted to somewhere in the realm of politely outraged. His jaw was tighter than a steel drum. “Do come in,” he said, looking pointedly at Hermann. “The rest of your siblings have already arrived.”

Hermann gave him a close-lipped smile with gritted teeth. “Oh how nice. Newton and I are going to put our bags in my room now. We’ll be down for supper when it’s time.”

Without another word, he quickly took Newt’s hand and pushed past Lars, cane clacking hard on the cherry wood floor. Newt spared a glance back to see him rapidly turning a shade of plum, staring at their clasped hands. 

They ascended the stairs briskly, Hermann’s breath only quickening slightly when they reached the top. He stopped for a moment, sucking in a lungful of air before resuming his pace down the narrow hall to a door near the end. On the outside was a small brass nameplate that read, “Hermann”.

“Oh that’s fun,” said Newt, eyeing it like a car wreck. “Most kids have, I dunno, caution tape or ‘keep out’ signs on the front of their door, but nope! Only the best for the Gottlieb kids. You got nameplates.”

Hermann rolled his eyes. “Our doors are identical, Newton. How else were Mother and Father supposed to know which room was which?”

“Interacting with their children,” said Newt flatly. Hermann pushed open the door in response.

Contrary to what he assumed Newt’s expectations were, Hermann’s bedroom was not taken straight from the aesthetic of a college production of 1984. There were posters of space rockets and star maps on the walls, as well as framed certificates of achievement and accomplishment. A small set of hanging shelves above his bed displayed trophies from mathematics competitions and, in one lone case, a battle bots tournament. The bedspread was a muted grey, as were the pillows and bedskirt and sheets peeking out from under them. No stuffed animals, action figures, or any kind of toy one might consider “fun” were visible. 

Hermann noticed Newt looking around purposefully and frowned. “What are you looking for?”

Newt opened the door to his closet and peered inside. “Your shrine to Alan Turing, dude. I’ve got a bet with Tendo.”

“I have no such thing you idiot, stop poking around,” Hermann snapped, subtly flipping over the framed collage of newspaper articles about the Enigma code on his bedside table. “Unlike you, I didn’t plaster my bedroom with… with shirtless movie stars and monster movie bylines. My walls were my, as you say, vision board.”

Newt turned and put a hand on his hip, looking unconvinced. “You’re telling me you didn’t at least have a spank bank?”

Hermann blinked. “A what?”

“Like, magazines, hot guy posters, that article Keaunu Reeves did about _My Own Private Idaho_ where he’s shirtless? Y’know, stuff to jack off too?”

Hermann felt his face go beet red. “I had absolutely _nothing_ like that!” he said hotly. “And I told you, stop poking around! You may be staying with me here, but you’re still a guest and should act like one.”

Newt raised an eyebrow and snorted. “Speaking of guests. Where’s the guest room?”

“What do you mean?” Hermann asked. “Why would we have one of those? No one ever came to visit out here. Father traveled for work.”

Realization dawned on Newt’s face. “So… you’re telling me you don’t have anywhere for me to sleep? Do you have, like, an air mattress or something?”

Hermann’s heart began to beat a little faster. “Er. No. IーI could find some blankets and pillows to sleep on the floor, butー”

“What the fuck, dude, don’t be ridiculous!” Newt exclaimed. “This is your house; I’m not gonna take your bed! Not to mention the fact that it would be fucking torture on your jointsーchill out, it’s fine, I’ll take the floor.”

“Shut up Newton, you’re the guest and I’ll be fine. Just take the bloody bed.”

“Why are you trying to nominate me for the Dick of the Year Award?” Newt said, gesturing erratically. His face was flushed. “It’s not like we both could fit inー” He cut himself off, mouth snapping shut. Hermann’s brow creased. 

“Fit where?” he said. “In my bed?”

“Iーit’s nothing, forget it,” Newt said quickly. “I’m taking the floor, man, just give it up.”

“I wouldn’tー” Hermann said, realizing just before he spoke that it was true, and gripping the head of his cane tightly as his fingers flexed up and down. “I wouldn’t be opposed, per say. To sharing. If it means you’ll not sleep on the floor.”

Newt’s eyes grew three sizes in two seconds. “Wait, really? You’d be, like, cool with that? IーI mean, I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortableー”

“Newton,”

“Or weird you out or anythingー”

“ _Newton_.”

“Because, like, I know how you feel about personal spaceー”

“Newton!” Newt’s mouth flew closed again. “It’s fine. There’s enough space for the both of us to be comfortable, and anyone sleeping on a floor for eight nights would be miserable. We can share.” He shuffled his feet awkwardly, lips pressed together in a tight line. “Consider it one of my thank yous for coming with me.”

Newt swallowed hard. “If you’re sure…” he said, and Hermann nodded tersely. “Uh. Okay. Cool. Just two dudes sharing a bed in solidarity against one of the dude’s asshole father, so they can emotionally shake him down for money. Gettin’ into the spirit of things.”

He offered a weak, humorous smile, and Hermann found himself unable to stop from grinning, just a little bit. “Coming together against a common enemy. Very much in the Chanukah spirit.”

“The lady’s improving,” Newt quipped, and nudged his bag over towards the bed with his foot. “Now c’mon. It’s almost sunset and we’ve gotta strategize.”

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Dinner was served just before sunset, and Newt stumbled through the _V’al Hanissim_ with only marginal slurring of the Hebrew. Hermann gave him an encouraging smile when they finished, only to cringe slightly as the _Hoda’ah_ proved to be just as much of a linguistic challenge.

“Okay, didn’t pass that particular family exam,” Newt muttered under his breath as Hermann passed him the lasagna. Hermann nudged his foot under the table, a familiar gesture from board meetings and presentations that meant anything from “I hear you” to “you worry too much”. Hermann intended the latter.

He turned to Bastien, who was sat next to him not-so-subtly staring at the tattoos winding their way above Newt’s collar. “Pass the applesauce, please.”

Newt watched Hermann spoon it onto his latkes with open disgust. “What the actual _hell_ , dude. That’s nasty.”

“You’re one to talk,” said Hermann snipply, adding another large scoop out of spite. “Perhaps if your tastebuds hadn't been ruined by store-bought latkes, you might be able to appreciate how they should really be eaten.”

“First of all, smartass, my dad used my mom’s recipe for them, so suck on that.” Newt pointed a finger at Hermann’s chest. “And second, you don’t mix fried potatoes and apples because that flavor combination is, as I said a minute ago, _nasty_.”

“Says the man who orders his lemonade made with bloody matcha powder every time he goes to Starbucks.”

“They’re both sweet! Lemonade is supposed to be sweet!” Newt began to gesture with his hands in a way that usually involved Kaiju guts being flung around. “It’s the same as adding strawberries or peach or any other kind of sweet, quote-unquote natural thing! Matcha lemonade wouldn’t be on the menu unless a profitable number of people liked it, and there it is!”

“There are also several items that tout themselves as horrific excuses for chai tea, and yet people order that as well. Popularity does not equal quality.”

Newt gave him a side-eye glare. “Is that why you order all your sweater vests from Walmart?”

“My work attire does not, as you seem to be unable to understand and replicate yourself, need to be flashy and expensive! Especially since I share a lab with a man who routinely ruins said sweater vests with his improper substance containment and safety procedures that would make OSHA faint on the spot!” 

“Joke’s on you,” Newt crowed, “I’ve never failed an inspection once!”

“You corralled live chickens into the cold storage freezer mere _seconds_ before the agent arrived back in 2021!”

A loud, bright snicker cut through the air, causing both Newt and Hermann’s heads to whip around to the source. It was Karla, covering her mouth politely with her hand, shoulders shaking with laughter. 

“See?” she said amusedly, turning to her mother. “I told you, Mother. They’re like an old married couple.”

Both of them froze.

As he looked about the room, Hermann was hit, like a mac truck filled with cement-covered elephants, with the sudden realization that every member of his family thought he and Newt were a couple. “Together”. Partners in, not just work and research, but life.

Oh God. He had been the one to call them that: partners, assuming everyone understood the actual meaning. But if they had thought he meant in a romantic sense…

Beside him, Newt opened his mouth, but Hermann quickly brought a foot down very _lightly_ on his toes. Newt started and gave him a confused look, but Hermann just blinked very, very slowly.

“Yes _thank you_ Karla,” he said, keeping pressure on Newt’s foot under the table. “We’ve never gotten _that_ comment before. How humorous.”

Bastien snorted and rolled his eyes. “Sometime later with all this, please. I’m eating for heaven’s sake.”

Hermann could feel Newt’s bug-eyed stare on him, but just shook his head and began to cut into his latkes. “My apologies, then. Karla, you mentioned the last time we spoke about an interesting mask you uncovered down on your last dig?”

Asking Karla about her research was like opening the Hoover Dam. Needless to say, Newt was prevented from getting a word in for the rest of the meal.

After everyone was finished, Hermann offered to clean the dishes while Karla and Dietrich helped Susan prep for lighting the Menorah. He quickly pulled Newt into the kitchen with them, and explanation already on the tip of his tongue.

Newt swiped a dish-towel off of the oven handle and pointed it at him. “Dude. What the hell.”

“I have a plan”, Hermann answered, and began to rinse off the plates and bowls as he spoke to cover their conversation. “This assumption could, in fact, be a very good thing for us.”

“Oh do tell,” said Newt sarcastically, but began to scrub at a dirty pot while he listened.

“Father hates you,” he said, “that much is very clear, and he’ll do anything to get you out of the house while I’m here. But, he wouldn’t _dare_ force you to leave if you’re my partner. That would be horrifically rude.” He smiled mischievously. “As long as everyone believes we’re in a relationship, you have far more leeway to make a faux pas here and there and get away with it. It’s actually quite perfect.”

Newt had begun making a funny sort of face the moment Hermann said the word “relationship”, but nodded slowly. “Fine,” he said, voice slightly tight and brusque. “But only so we have a better chance of getting that funding.”

Hermann felt an odd stab of hurt at this, although an explanation for it eluded him. He settled for scrubbing hard at a particularly stubborn patch of crusted cheese. “Good, then,” he replied. “It shouldn’t be too hard, seeing as they’ve already assumed based on our normal behavior. My family isn’t one for affection anyway.”

He heard Newt mutter something along the lines of “That’s obvious,” under his breath, but couldn’t be sure. Instead, Hermann just shot him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Look on the bright side. At least this will give us an excuse to be alone when we want. I’m not sure I could stomach my family a hundred percent of the time.”

Newt placed a plate loudly into the dishwasher and grabbed another. “Great. Super. _Fan_ tastic.”

Hermann sighed quietly. He didn’t know _what_ had gotten Newt into one of his moods, but it was best to just let him work it out on his own. 

Bastien poked his head in the door a minute later. “If you two are finished,” he said, “we’re lighting in a few minutes. Sun’s almost set.”

Newt closed the dishwasher door and dried his hands on the towel. “Just did. Please tell me the prayers for this one are at least a little easier?”

Bastien gave him what passed in the Gottlieb family as a sympathetic look. “You’re half Jewish, yes? Maybe just say the words you can pronounce. That ought to round out to about fifty percent.”

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

It did not round out to about fifty percent.

By the time the _Shamash_ and then the first candle were lit, Newt had shifted to the back of the semicircle and pulled up a pronunciation guide to the _Brachah_ on his phone. He had a brief look of relief when Hermann whispered that the _Shehecheyanu_ was only said the first night, but it quickly dissolved into panic when the rest of the Gottliebs began to sing (flatly in both musical skill and emotion) _Hanerot Halalu_. 

“Where are the presents?” Newt asked once everyone else had dispersed to let the candles burn. Hermann gave a long-suffering sigh.

“That’s for the eighth night, Newton. Chanukah doesn’t even traditionally involve presents; that’s just something parents in America and the UK started so their children wouldn’t feel left out. My family only exchanges gifts on the eighth night, and all the rest are devoted to tradition. Even then, it’s just small things.”

“Huh,” Newt said. “Guess that really makes you appreciate birthdays.”

Hermann pressed his lips together. “Well. We never really made much of a fuss over those, either.”

Newt looked at him like he had just said Lars spent weekends in the country kicking puppies. “Dude. Your family is really, really sad.”

Hermann considered a response, but then again, lying was rather frowned upon during Chanukah. He glanced aside, then grabbed his cane and made for the stairs. “Someone else will get the lights,” he said. “I’m going to bed. It takes bloody forever for the electric blankets to get warm in this weather.”

That night, however, Hermann found he had no trouble with the typical Bavarian chill. Newt, despite being stationed awkwardly on the other side of the bed, was like a space heater, and he found himself reaching his cold toes just far enough across the mattress to catch some of that warmth. It made Hermann wonder what it would be like to curl up closer to him, limbs wrapped around his small, sturdy frame, nose buried in his hair that smelled like Hermann’s own (two-in-one for practicality) shampoo. The sort of thing that his family probably thought they were doing right now. Couple things.

And wasn’t that a flustering thought. Suddenly Hermann found himself feeling downright toasty.

It was the singular most stressful, and strangely comfortable, sleep of his life, especially when he woke early in the morning to find he and Newt had gravitated towards each other in the night. One leg was thrown across Hermann’s hip, pulling it close to Newt’s own. The other man’s hands were at the small of his back, and Hermann found his face so close to Newt’s that he could feel his warm, sleepy breath on his chin. The weak morning light filtered through the window to paint shadows of falling snow across Newt’s cheeks, supplementing the freckles there that had faded from grey skies. Hermann couldn’t move. This rare, unexpectedly intimate moment demanded his full attention.

He did get out of bed eventually, long before Newt woke up, if only to ponder just how much worse the holiday could get from there.

_Night Two_

“So really,” Hermann said smoothly, giving Lars a small, polite smile, “funding is one of the most important components to an organization’s success. The PPDC is no different; Newton and I, for example, just came to a joint breakthrough a few months ago about how the Kaiju could find population centers so quickly after emerging from the Breach.”

“Fascinating,” droned Lars, clearly uninterested in anything that didn’t have to do with concrete and worker mistreatment. Hermann’s smile tightened.

“Well yes,” he continued. “You seeー”

A crash from the kitchen startled them both into silence, and Hermann bolted through the door to find the source of the noise, pushing it open with his cane. What he saw made him nearly drop it in dismay.

“Heyーuhー babe!” said Newt mock-cheerily, giving him an apologetic wave. Beside him, Bastien was hurriedly opening a window to fan smoke from the room, which was coming from an overturned pot of what appeared to be burned cheese fondue currently resting on the floor. “So, uh, don’t worry about the mess. Bastien and I’ll get it cleaned up real quick, promise!”

Bastien knelt down and began picking up fondue spears, making a mournful sound as they dripped cheese onto the tile. “That was the last of the nutmeg.”

Newt winced. “Uh. Well. Cinnamon tastes pretty much the same, right?”

The glare he received confirmed that if looks could kill, Newt would be a twitching heap.

_Night Three_

“Rest in peace, Menorahsaurus Rex,” Newt said sadly, dabbing at the burnt remains of his sweater with a wet cloth. “May your memory be a blessing.”

“Truly,” said Hermann sarcastically, “he was too good for this world. Perhaps let’s not put a wool garment so close to the Menorah next time, yes?”

“Well excuse me for trying to liven things up a little,” Newt grumbled. “I guess there’s always next year.”

“If you recreate that thing anywhere near me, Newton, may God help you,” he said darkly, but wordlessly took the cloth and began to wipe away the bits of ash speckling Newt’s face. “For heaven’s sake, _be careful_. You could have burned your face off, and melted your glasses into your eyes, and set the whole bloody house on fire.”

“Damn, worrywart much?” Newt snickered. “You know nobody’s around, right? You don’t have to fuss over me.”

Hermann paused, the cloth freezing in midair. “Ah. I. Well.” He sniffed. “Someone has to make sure you don’t go walking around like an off-duty blacksmith.”

“Yeah, the _scandal_ ,” Newt said sarcastically, but held still while Hermann cleaned the rest of the black away.

_Night Four_

To give blame where it was due, perhaps it hadn’t been the best idea for Dietrich to take a known biologist and animal rights activist slash vegetarian on a hunting trip in the woods around the farm, and not expect there to be consequences.

“I swear, it came out of nowhere!” he insisted, rubbing tenderly at where the doctor in town had injected a variety of shots. “I have _never_ seen a squirrel that upset in my life. It was like he had it out for my blood!”

Over by the fireplace, Newt whistled casually and poked at the logs. “Gee, man, maybe he was pissed you shot at his friends,” he said. Hermann shot him a glare.

“Or perhaps he was provoked into attacking by an idiot waving about breadcrumbs.” Newt rolled his eyes.

“Hermann, please. I’m a zoologist, not an animal whisperer.” 

“I saw you take a loaf of pumpernickel from the basket before you left,” Hermann said, pointing an accusing finger at Newt’s intensely guilty face. His eyes had the “who, me?” expression of a dog just caught slipping off the couch.

“You’d deny a man his lunch, Hermykins? For shame,” Newt said with a fake pout. Dietrich gave Hermann’s cane a tap.

“Oi. ‘Hermykins’. A bit more liberal with the ice if you don’t mind. Besides, everyone knows the squirrels around here prefer sourdough.”

“News to them,” Hermann heard Newt mumble under his breath, turning over a log so it exploded in a burst of sparks.

_Night Five_

“ _You’re_ the one with the physics degree; you have a _completely_ unfair advantageー”

“Over an intensely sore loser who’s never played this in his life so how could he _possibly_ ー”

“It’s a top, Hermann, it’s a fucking top! You spin it! It lands on a word! You follow the directions! It’s _not that hard_!”

“And yet you seem to be losing spectacularly.”

“Because you fucked with it somehow!”

“How could I possibly tamper with a dreidel if it’s _so_ simple, Newton, really do tellー”

“You built battle bots, _I’m sure_ you could come up with somethingー”

“There is a _massive_ difference between billion-dollar mechanical operations and a bloody wooden _spinner_! You’re just upset because I’m somehow better at games of chance like I always amー”

“ _Aha_! You made a predictive model!”

“For _dreidel_?!”

“I wouldn’t put it past you!”

_Night Six_

The enticing smells of roast goose and potatoes wafted in through the kitchen door as Hermann entered, unable to help giving an appreciative sniff. Karla stood from where she was bent down at the oven, drawing a meat thermometer out of the bird. “I thought this would encourage you to meet me here.”

“You talk a great deal like a secret agent of some sort for an archeologist, Karla,” Hermann said wryly. “You’re not Indiana Jones.”

Something that almost looked like panic flashed in Karla’s eyes before she turned and put the thermometer on a paper towel. “Of course not, dear, don’t be ridiculous. I just needed to speak with you in private.”

Hermann’s brow creased slightly. “Did Vanessa call about another change to the color palette? I told her, I refuse to wear a bloody lavender suit no matter how in line with her theme it isー”

“I know, Hermann,” Karla said simply, and that shut him up faster than anything. Hermann made a sort of pathetic sputtering sound.

“Iーahーknow what? Exactly?”

“You and Newt,” she said, adding a few extra minutes to the oven timer. “That you’re not _really_ in a relationship. Well,” she corrected herself, “yet.”

Hermann chose to ignore that last part. “Please don’t tell Father,” he asked quietly. Karla turned to stare at him, almost appalled.

“Why in heaven’s name would I do that? This has been the most fun I’ve had at Chanukah in ages.” She smiled cheerfully. “Father’s nearly out of his mind with rage every time Newt steps in the room. And that row of yours over the dreidel last night was simply fantastic.”

Another thing Hermann chose not to mention was the inexplicable, yet nearly overwhelming urge he had felt that night when Newt had grabbed the dreidel and dangled it in front of his face, eyes bright and furious as he spoke, face flushed, so close Hermann had nearlyー

Oh, Karla was still talking. He shook his head slightly to clear it and made a sort of huffing sound. “Yes, well, I’m glad you’re getting good entertainment out of all this. Meanwhile Newton and I, actually, are attempting to get any funding we can for the Jaeger program. You know, the one that’s keeping everyone _alive_ and not wasting billions of dollars creating a big concrete paper bag for the Kaiju to destroy.”

She laughed. “Oh yes, I saw right through that the moment you showed up for the first time in two years. Quite a brilliant plan, if I might add. Horrifically blasphemous, technically, but I think in the face of world-wide destruction, that sort of thing can be forgiven.”

Hermann sniffed. “Thank you.”

“What _I_ don’t understand,” she continued, raising an eyebrow, “is why you simply haven’t asked Newt out in the first place.”

Hermann scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous, Karla. You know exactly why.”

She put a hand on her hip. “Oh do tell.”

“For God’s sake, you know what I’m like; you’ve seen what Newton clearly thinks of me. Imagine if you were asking him that very question.” He rubbed a finger across the worn top of his cane, glancing aside for a moment as he thought he heard a creak from the floor behind him. When the kitchen door remained closed, he continued. “‘Oh, _that_ imbecile? Not in a lifetime; they barely pay me enough to tolerate how obnoxious he is, or obsessive about his work, at the cost of any kind of attractability might I add, or that he’s certifiably crazy and no one believes a single one of his theoriesーand how could you expect him to be at all available for a romantic relationship when he can barely take care of his own pathetic self?’ I mean, really, Karla.” 

Hermann finished with his free hand gripping the hem of his sweater, a cold, sick feeling twisting in his chest. He heard that same sound behind him again, but didn’t bother to look. “I… of course I would tell Newton how I feel, if I didn’t know for certain it would absolutely disgust him to his core. He’s quite a lot, yes, but I do know he deserves someone who canー” he searched for the right word, “keep up with him. Give him the kind of life he deserves. Be a proper other half, if you want to get sentimental about it.”

Karla gave him a searching look. “It’s quite funny you think that. Seeing as you two might as well be the poster figures for Drift Compatibility.”

Hermann blinked in shock. “Iーwhat?”

She shrugged. “It’s quite clear to me, anyway. You’re practically attached at the hip most of the time, you finish each others’ arguments and sentences like pilots trade blows, and I must say, the ‘Drift partners in love’ is a very common romantic device these days.”

“Ha ha,” said Hermann dryly, but he felt his heart do a little flutter anyway. “You really think so?”

Karla smiled at him warmly. “Hermann, studying humans is my job. And I’m quite good at it, I think. If you ask meー”

“I’ve been roped into doing so, I believe.”

“ーyou should tell Newt. He’s quite fond of you as well.”

A rush of warmth swooped through Hermann’s stomach. “I’ll… I’ll think on it. But thank you, Karla, really.”

Her smile widened. “Go be gallant, darling. This _is_ a week for miracles.”

He tapped her ankle lightly with his cane as he left, half-heartedly fighting the grin spreading across his face. The kitchen door swung shut behind him, and Hermann made his way into the living room where a fire was casting flickering shadows on the frosted windows. Newt was there, in fact, flipping through a plastic-bound journal on what appeared to be the effects of Blue on coastal flora. Hermann sat on the couch a respectful distance away, holding his cane in both hands.

“Hello,” he said. Newt grunted noncommittally in response, and Hermann shifted in his seat. “Interesting work?”

“Marginally,” said Newt in an oddly flat voice. He frowned.

“Is everything alright?” 

Newt flipped at page loudly, the plastic making a wobbling sound. “Great.”

Hermann rubbed a finger up and down a section of his cane. “Alright,” he said haltingly. “Well. I was thinking we might go into town tomorrow. There’s a very nice bookstore I’ve always liked.”

“I’m good,” Newt replied, turning another page. Hermann waited for an explanation, but none came. He tried to subtly get a look at Newt’s face, but only saw that his eyes were slightly red and puffy, and he was sucking hard on the inside of his cheek. After about another minute of awkward silence, he squirmed. 

“Are, ah, are you sure? I thought you might like to get out of the house for a bit and just… you know. Talk.”

Newt let out an irritated puff of air through his nose. “Like I said, bud, I’m good.”

Hermann jerked back a little as he almost violently snapped the journal shut, standing suddenly. “Maybe chill out with your sister a little bit. You two seem close.” He gave him a cruel-looking half-grin. “Twin stuff, right?”

Then without another word, he tucked the journal under one hand and, if Hermann didn’t know any better, he would say Newt stormed out of the room.

Floored, he sat there for a few moments and gripped his cane loosely in his hands. What on _Earth_ had just happened? Was it something he’d said?

The rest of the night spiraled downward like Hermann’s Breach model. The more he tried to find out what was wrong, the angrier Newt seemed to become. He hung back during the Menorah lighting with a poorly-hidden scowl on his face, glancing away every time Hermann tried to make eye contact. When they were preparing for bed, he barely even spoke, instead just slipping in and out of the shower, shoving a shirt and a pair of sweatpants on, and crawling into bed in an air of cold silence.

Hermann found himself unable to sleep as he stared up at the ceiling, mind racing with the events of the day. Had he done something wrong? Was Newt growing to regret coming with him? Had Lars gotten him alone and hurt him?

He rolled over, feeling like he was about to vomit. Hopefullyー _hopefully_ ーthings would be better in the morning.

_Night Seven_

Things were unequivocally _not_ better in the morning.

After a full day of Newt’s ice cold shoulder, Hermann was almost glad when Lars called him into his study late that afternoon. The watery winter sun shone dimly through the windows onto the hard, oak panels of his desk, catching the gold pens and accenting on the many books stuffed into his shelf up against the left wall. Hermann let the door click shut quietly, standing just inside it while Lars slowly looked up from what he was writing.

“Hermann,” he said cooly, “sit down.”

Hermann glanced at the plain wooden chair in front of his desk; the simplest thing in the room. He could remain standing in a show of defiance, yes, but the mission here was to soothe Lars, not reinforce Hermann’s near-constant point that he could get around just fine. With a small internal sigh, he rested his cane against the leg of the chair and sat.

“Did you need something, Father?” he asked neutrally, trying to gauge if Newt’s black mood had somehow irked him. Lars put his pen down and folded his hands together.

“On the contrary, in fact, I believe it is _you_ who is in need of something.” Hermann frowned.

“I don’t understand.”

“I know why you came, Hermann,” he said, voice still so unnervingly calm. “Your little science division is on its last legs.”

Hermann tightened his grip on the chair’s armrests. “I wouldn’t say thaー”

“So now you’ve come crawling to me for funding,” Lars continued, “in some weak little attempt to appeal to my sense of… family, I suppose.” He cracked a single knuckle. “I must say, you’re just as terrible at charming people _now_ as you were when we last spoke. Using a holiday to your advantage was a nice touch, I’ll admit.”

“You are the one who takes every time we meet as an opportunity to inform me of howー” Hermann began, but Lars cut him off with a wave of his hand. 

“Quiet. I said I saw through what you were doing. I never said you hadn’t given me a…” He appeared to search for a phrase. “... new perspective.”

Hermann sat up a little straighter. “IーI did?”

“Yes.” He folded his hands the other way. “And I’m prepared to offer you a deal.”

Hermann gritted his teeth, preparing himself for the inevitable request to speak out for the wall, or attend something as his father’s guest, or anything equally horrific and degrading. What actually came out of Lars’ mouth, however, left him speechless.

“You’re going to leave Dr. Geiszler.”

His mouth dropped open slightly. “I’mーgoing to— _what_?”

“Your,” Lars’ lip curled, “‘partner,’ as you called him. I want him out. Out of this house, out of your life, out of the whole bloody picture. He’s an irrational nuisance that I refuse to even consider as a potential part of this family. Lab interaction is inevitable, I accept that, but in terms of personal life?” He straightened his shoulders. “It is either him, or a _very_ generous parcel of funding for the PPDC. You choose.”

Hermann felt frozen to his seat, unable to believe what he was hearing. Was it really that simple? Had he and Newt convinced everyone so thoroughly of their relationship that funding was as easy as ending the lie?

Schooling his face into a neutral expression, he pretended to think on it. “Could I have some time to consider?” he asked. Lars barely hid his triumphant look.

“Until the end of Chanukah,” he said smoothly. “I’ll need enough time to wire the funds.”

Hermann nodded and stood, taking his cane in slightly-shaking hands. “Very well. Thank you, Father. I’ll let you know.”

He closed the door behind him and allowed himself a small, victorious grin. Finally, something that would surely cheer Newt up and clear the air between them. And Hermann knew he’d appreciate the chance to stage a large, dramatic “break up” for everyone to see; he’d let Newt pick the most scandalous moment after the final lighting was over. Funny, he thought, how invested he was in making him happy considering the situation. It was almost like planning a date.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

“He asked you to _what_?!”

Hermann nodded excitedly. “It’s perfect, yes? All we have to do tell him we broke up, or have a bit of a row if you’d prefer, and the PPDC gets the funding! Newton, we did it!” He searched Newt’s face for the same joy at a job well done, but was shocked to find him looking almost… hurt. Devastated, even.

“So you’re telling me,” Newt said through gritted teeth, hands twitching at his sides, “that that asshole told you to break up with your literal fucking boyfriend, and you’re just gonna do it? Seriously?”

He blinked. “Well. Of course. It’s not like we were actually dating in the first place, Newton.”

“That’s not the point!” Newt shouted suddenly, throwing his hands up in the air. “It’sーyou hate the guy! Like, completely! And he’s a jerk and wall funder and he doesn’t actually _care_ about the PPDC or ending the war or anything like that; he just wants to control you!”

“Newton,” Hermann said slowly, brow creasing, “I think you’re taking this a bit too seriously. It’s a fake relationship. We’re not actually dating. _Breaking up_ , and I say that in heavy metaphorical air quotes, doesn’t mean anything.”

At Hermann’s last words, Newt looked as if he had been slapped in the face. “It meant absolutely nothing to you,” he said quietly, more a statement than a question. Hermann nodded, looking at him with confusion.

“Of course. Why would it?” He paused, peering closer at the oddly wet gleam behind Newt’s glasses. “Are you alright, Newton?”

Newt’s jaw went tighter than a clenched fist. His eyes flashed dangerously, but with a sudden clarity, all Hermann could see was pain. “I am perfectly _fucking_ fine, fuck you, you fuckingー _robot_!” he snarled, digging his nails into his palms. “Don’t even bother figuring out a cover reason for the rest of your family, I’ll give you one right now: you’re an _asshole_. We’re _done_. Metaphorical air quotes in-fucking-cluded.”

Without another word Newt turned on his heel, swiped at his eyes with the back of his fist, and thundered out of the parlor so quickly Hermann was unable to form the words to what he had realized halfway through Newt’s tirade, in a shock of sentimentality that was tinged with the memory of the past several years’ worth of strange domesticity under the end of the world; of knees almost touching on a threadbare lab couch; of tea made exactly the way he liked it without ever saying how; of learning to take the touch of another as easy as breathing; which was, in fact, “I meant it.”

_Night Eight: Zot Hanukkah_

The thing about Sarah Gottlieb was that she did not, under any circumstances, deserve to be married to Lars.

In the wake of the Holocaust, Jewish parents were concerned with a lot of things. Family, mostly. The ways and means of surviving again. Putting their lives back together. Sarah’s mother had been kept at Treblinka long after it was liberated; there had been no place for her to go. Her father had walked miles to find food and shelter before settling into a refugee camp. After the war, Jews married quickly, settled down wherever and for whatever they could, and tried to build lives out of what they had lost. Sarah was raised by people who had known death like a cruel lover. When the time came for her to marry, she sought out the safety of someone who would never make her see the inside of a poorhouse. She did not consider love in the equation.

Lars had never touched her harshly; he had never forced her into any kind of union or demanded affection from her. He was a leech raised in ice water: cold and sucking and sucking until she felt dry and hollow inside. Her guts were carved plywood clumsily stacked on top of each other and surrounded by cotton. She cooked his dinner, and their childrens’ lunches, and scrubbed the bathroom sink until it was white as bone. She wore clean, starched dresses and kept her hair braided back in a coiled knot. She gave each part of herself a name, labeled in neat little cursive, and doled them out in turn like tupperware. She made bargains, as wives do, because she was meant to, and because that was the life she had been given. Lars gave her trousers to iron. Her children gave her school forms to sign. The world gave her a horizon, and she pinched it around her neck to wear as a reminder of love meant.

The thing about Sarah Gottlieb was that she loved her children, and every time they left her house, she hoped to never see them again.

Hermann understood this in a vague sense, if only because he had always been closer with his mother as a child. She knew what it was like to be given a life you did not want, and so had done everything she could to open Hermann’s horizon and send him into the world as soon as possible. Her son’s heart, she knew, was large and tender and scabbing over, slowly, from the way Lars had wounded it, and she knew Newt had been essential in that healing. 

The thing about being invisible is that everyone comes to believe that too, and you can see things others can’t. So when Hermann’s mother approached him that night, dusting powdered sugar off her hands and onto her worn apron, he knew Karla had not had to tell her.

“Oh, Hermann,” she said sadly, sitting down next to him on the couch. “ _Mein schöner Junge_. This has not been easy for you, has it?”

Hermann closed the book whose page he had been reading and rereading without absorption, and sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I did, I don’t know how I hurt him in the first place, and I don’t… I don’t even bloody know how I feel.” He clenched his fist on top of the hardcover. “And I _hate_ not knowing.”

Sarah put her hand next to his on the book. “You do. I’ve watched you hate it all your life. And I know it’s hard for you to understand these things.”

“I just wish there was something I could do for him,” he said. “Some way to show thatーthat everything we did, everything I said while we were pretendingーthat I wish we hadn’t been pretending at all. That it was real.”

She shrugged delicately. “You act as if it wasn’t. Perhaps not technically, no, but wasn’t it, Hermann?” She lightly touched his chest with a finger. “In here?”

Hermann stared down at it, blinking. “I… suppose it was, yes.” He bit his lip hard. “But I don’t know how to tell Newton that. It’s _Zot_ , and I brought something for everyone here except him; I couldn’t find anything that feltーright. And now I’ve gone and mucked everything up, so I just want to show himーor give himーwhatever it is, something that lets him know how much he means to me. If that makes sense?” He looked up at Sarah questioningly.

She folded her hands back together, settling into the cushions. “Well. I don’t think that’s what you should be worried about at all.”

Hermann frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Chanukah,” she said, “is about the miracle. The oil that lasted us eight days after we revolted against the Seleucids. The entire reason we celebrate this festival is to remind us that, when we trust in Him, he takes care of us. Do you think the Hebrews thought that oil was going to last them two nights, much less eight?” She laughed. “Of course not! But they knew He was with them. And while I’m not saying to just throw caution to the wind and tell Him to give Newton the perfect gift, I _am_ suggesting you trust your heart. It did lead you to him, after all.”

Hermann blinked slowly, eyes widening. “I came here to spend Chanukah with my family… and I have. The whole time. He’s had every chance and reason to leave, but he’s still here.”

Sarah smiled wryly. “And why do you think that is?”

A lightbulbーno, a spotlightーflickered on in Hermann’s mind. He stood as quickly as he could, snatching his cane from beside him. “I don’t think,” he said, grinning back at her triumphantly. “I know.”

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

After the last gift was exchanged that night, Hermann rose wordlessly from his chair and held out a hand to Newt. “Newton,” he said, “would you mind taking a walk with me?”

Newt gave him a suspicious look from his place curled up on the floor, eyes narrowing. “Uh. Why?”

“I think we have some things to talk about,” he said, not moving his hand. After a long, tense moment, Newt glanced about at the rest of the Gottliebs gathered around them, eyed Hermann’s hand cautiously, then took it.

“Fine. Let’s make this quick, though. It’s cold as hell out there.”

As they retrieved their coats and gloves, Hermann noticed Lars watching them out of the corner of his eye. He gave Hermann an approving nod, and Hermann felt disgust curdle in his stomach. He tightened his grip on his cane.

The night air was crisp and biting as they walked down the path towards the house gate. The sky glittered as clear as a pane of glass, and a thin sliver of moon shone down onto the fresh snow. Hermann dusted some off of the top of the gate and held it open, giving Newt a small smile as he looked surprised at the gesture.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

They walked in silence into the woods edging the property, snow crunching under their feet. Long, winking icicles hung from the trees above, and the world seemed muffled and stirring, almost as if it were holding its breath. Hermann kept glancing over at Newt, whose hands were jammed into his pockets. His breath came out in angry little puffs of condensation; white clouds against the blackness of the trees around them.

“Where the hell are we going?” he finally asked. Hermann didn’t respond; only took a few more steps forward and pushed through the trees. When they entered the clearing, Newt stopped cold in his tracks.

The moon shone down onto a red checkered blanket, on top of which was set a picnic basket and a large, black telescope. Wordlessly, Hermann walked over and lowered himself down, gesturing for Newt to follow. He grabbed the handle of the basket and held it aloft. “Cold?”

Newt’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I…” he said, then moved forward as if in a dream to sit next to Hermann. “What _is_ all this?”

“Happy Chanukah,” he replied, opening the lid and producing a thermos. “And Christmas, although I’d say we’re only focusing on that about twenty-five percent.” He unscrewed the lid and offered it to Newt. “Eggnog?”

Newt took it, still clearly shell-shocked. “IーI don’t get it.”

Hermann raised an eyebrow. “‘Get’ what?”

He spread his hands, gesturing to the setup around them. “Getーthis! Theーthe Hallmark climax picnic-for-two romance thing! I thought I was the last person in the world you would ever wanna do this for!”

Now frowning, Hermann took the thermos and put it down. “Newton, what on _Earth_ are you talking about?”

“Oh come on dude,” he scoffed, “you said it yourself: they barely pay you enough to tolerate me?” He moved his pointer finger back and forth in midair. “Ring any bells?”

The conversation in the kitchen suddenly slammed back into his mind like a punch. This time, it was Hermann’s turn to let his mouth fall open. Without thinking, he blurted, “I told Karla I was in love with you.”

 _That_ clearly wasn’t what Newt was expecting.

Off his expression, Hermann quickly amended, “Am! I am. BecauseーNewton, she found out we were lying and asked me why I hadn’t, well, made things not. A lie. And I told her that was ridiculous, and you would never be interested, of course, and… I realize now how that might have been a bit easy to mix up if you were listening.” He almost smacked himself in the forehead. “Oh dear.”

Newt just stared at him. “Are you seriously telling me I pulled a whole ‘miscommunication from eavesdropping’ move? And all I had to do was just fucking _ask_ you about it?!” Newt was, in fact, one to facepalm. “Jesus _Christ_.”

Hermann shifted nervously in his seat. “Ah, yes, I do believe that might have cleared things up. But I knew you were upset, and I wanted to do something to make it up to you, so:” he gestured at the telescope, “IーI thought I’d take advantage of the lack of light pollution out here.”

Newt looked at it, then back at Hermann, a look of wonder spreading across his face. “You did all this for me?”

He looked away, face reddening. “It’s a bit much, I know, but I truly wanted to show you how much I care about you Newtoーmmph!”

Without warning, Newt launched himself forward and threw his arms around Hermann’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. His lips were freezing, but Hermann felt a rush of heat surge into his cheeks that more than made up the difference. After a moment of panic ( _NEWTON GEISZLER, HEXA-DOCTOR, IS KISSING YOU HERMANN, WHERE IS YOUR PLAN FOR THIS_ ) his hands flew to Newt’s waist and he pulled him closer. He could feel Newt’s lips pull up in a smile, and let out a soft sigh as he tilted his head to kiss Hermann deeper. 

When at last they pulled back for air, Newt’s eyes were shining, and his cheeks were flushed bright pink. “ _Wowza_ ,” he said simply, and then as if unable to help himself, moved forward and pressed a small kiss to Hermann’s nose. “Some gift!”

Hermann snorted, eyes shutting tight as he let his head fall forward to lean against Newt’s forehead. “I’m quite glad you enjoyed it, you stupid little man.”

“Shut up,” Newt said, and slipped his icy fingers down the neck of Hermann’s coat, who squawked at the sensation. “ _That’s_ for doing the worst fucking impression of me of all time.”

Hermann batted his hands away, but couldn’t stop smiling. “Ridiculous. Drink your eggnog before it gets cold, and put this telescope I lugged all the way out here to good use.”

“Oh, my _hero_ ,” he replied, and turned to uncap the lens. “Don’t lie, I know you’re jacked.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermann huffed, and cradled the thermos in both hands as he watched Newt watch the sky above them.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Newt dropped their suitcases down in the entrance hall, taking one last look around at the house. “Gotta say,” he mused, “this wasn’t nearly as depressing as I anticipated.”

“I’m so glad,” Hermann said dryly. He turned to Karla, who pulled him into an unexpected, yet tight hug.

“You two go keep saving the world,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. She reached over and did the same to Newt. “You’ll figure things out; I know it.”

Newt gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks, man. Good luck with the wedding. I’ll try to wrangle Hermann into whatever color suit Vanessa decides on.”

Hermann rolled his eyes. “You can bloody try.”

She opened the door for them on their way out, and Newt and Hermann made their way towards the taxi waiting at the end of the drive. About halfway there, Hermann paused and looked back at the house. Next year, he decided, anyone in need of a festive time would be welcome wherever he and Newt were. No one should be alone during the holidays, and no one should be in that house, either. 

Newt stopped next to him, one hand on his hip. “Too bad we didn’t manage to get that funding, though. And for all that shit with your dad, too.”

Hermann began to agree, but glanced up at something moving in one of the windows. Lars, he realized, was watching them from his study. With a pointed smirk, he grabbed Newt by the hand, tugged him closer, and dipped him as best he could into a deep kiss. Newt made a little noise of surprise, but dropped their bags and returned it eagerly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Hermann, straightening up and giving Newt a smug pat on the chest. “I suppose you aren’t too bad a tradeoff.”


End file.
